London Rain
by Penny Ali
Summary: The Weasley family are charged with Draco Malfoy's care after he is kicked out of home. Originally planning revenge, Harry slowly gets to know the real Malfoy.
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: Hogwarts and all attatchments are JK Rowling's.  
  
Chapter One - London Rain  
  
It rained. Harry thought that his first night back in London after a trip to "visit" Charlie in Romania (Mr and Mrs. Weasley had been doing work for the Order) there should be a little breeze, about ten thousand stars and no cars on the roads, making noise.  
  
Instead he got rain, clouds, and the worst news he'd ever heard in his life.  
  
Kingsley Shacklebolt let the Weasleys and Harry into Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place with a distracted air. Used to his semi-vague personality, Harry said nothing but wandered into the sitting room trying to control the clenching of his gut muscles. He hadn't been in his godfather's house since the Christmas holidays before Sirius' death. Seeing the house brightly lit, without the Dark Artifacts and gloomy hangings that had been the property of the Black family made the place feel alien. But in a way, that helped.  
  
"Are you alright, Harry?" Ginny asked frankly. "This must be hard for you."  
  
"I don't want to talk about it," he replied immediately. "Let's it down."  
  
Fred, George, and Ron exchanged looks with their sister, but said nothing about it. Instead, they flopped down onto the cushions and started talking unconcernedly about their trip.  
  
"Did you see the Fireball they were trying to breed with the Hybridean Black?" Fred asked. "I'd hate to get on the wrong side of one of those."  
  
"It's a pretty dangerous idea," Ron said. Everyone stared at him. "Well, it is," he said defensively.  
  
"Do you have to point out the obvious in every conversation?" George asked nastily.  
  
"Course he does," Fred snickered. "Otherwise, he'd have nothing to say."  
  
"Oh, shut it, you two," Ginny said idly. "If it weren't for Ron, neither of you would have anything to say."  
  
Fred made a face at Ginny and they laughed.  
  
Harry, meanwhile, had crouched beside the picture window, looking out to the street. It was almost deserted, and dingily lit, but for a moment the grey darkness was almost comforting. Like a blanket on a cold night, the way the darkness cloaked the house was soothing...  
  
"Hary!" someone said, close to his ear. He turned sharply and saw Ron bending over him, about to grab his shoulder.  
  
"What?" he snapped.  
  
"Mum said we need to go to the kitchen," Ron said, seeming to ignore Harry's annoyance. "Something about bad news and Malfoy. Maybe they've died, that'd be really great -"  
  
"Ron, shut up," Harry said tiredly. He stood up and led the way to the kitchen.  
  
The house was his now; Sirius had willed it to him. But he'd let the Order keep it as Headquarters, because hehad no particular wish to live in it. Not that he could, anway.  
  
After what had happpened, it was a struggle just to return to the house for visits or Order business.  
  
He found Mr and Mrs Weasley in the kitchen with Kingsley, Bill, Snape and Lupin, looking so serious that he thought someone must have died.  
  
Trying to ignore Snape, he sat down beside Lupin and said quietly, "what's happned?"  
  
"Narcissa Malfoy had turned her son out of the Manor," Snape replied. Harry scowled at him.  
  
"Why? How do you know... sir?"  
  
"We have it from a reliable source, Harry," Lupin said quietly. "We do not know why, exactly, but we do know that he has contacted his Aunt, and unless we can stop her, she will take him in."  
  
"Bellatrix Lestrange," Harry said, feeling sick fear at the name.  
  
Kingsley nodded. "We have suggested he stay at Hogwarts until term starts, but at the moment there are no members of the Order to watch him."  
  
"Could we keep him here?" Fred asked. "This is Order headquarters!"  
  
"Which is prescisely the reason we can't keep him here," Snape said impatiently. "Use your brains, boy!"  
  
Mrs. Weasley bristled at Snape's tone, but said simply, "we believe we may have a solution. But you children must agree on it. All of you."  
  
"What is it?" Ron asked, oblivious to the looks of certainty and sick disbelief from the other.  
  
"Oh, isn't it obvious, Ron?" Ginny asked despairingly.  
  
"We thought we might take Draco Malfoy until term starts," Mr Weasley said. "Much as I don't like his family, I do believe living with Bellatrix Lestrange would be the worst option. He's already tipped to take the Mark as soon as he turns eighteen. Maybe this way we can change something."  
  
Pandemonium ensued. Fred and George stood up and shouted in one voice "you can't do that!" Ron stared at his parents, white faced.  
  
Ginny looked like a wildcat, between the expression of her eyes and the fire of her hair.  
  
Harry was numb. He couldn't believe it. Draco Malfoy to stay with the Weasleys.  
  
"Malfoy would never do it," he said finally. "He hates us - all of us. It'd be worse now that Voldemort's back, and his father's in jail."  
  
"Harry's right!" George said hopefully.  
  
"We know he is," Bill said. "That's not the point. We're not talking about him going willingly."  
  
Fred slumped down in his seat. "What has Dumbledore said about this?"  
  
"We contacted Dumbledore as soon as we found out," Kingsley said. "He says the better option would be for soeone from the Order to take the Malfoy boy. It won't be easy, we know that. But it will help the Order."  
  
Harry exchanged glances with Ginny, who shrugged. "If it's for the Order, then," she said in resigned tones.  
  
Ron looked about to refuse, but sighed. "Doesn't look like we have a choice, does it?" he asked rhetorically.  
  
"Well, I won't do it," Fred stated furiously. "I'd rather live here, or go and stay with Bill. How can you let Malfoy into our house, Mum?"  
  
"I'd let you stay at my flat, mate," Bill said. "All of you. But I'm going back to Egypt tomorrow, and I'll be there until October."  
  
The twins exchanged furious glances, but seeing the defeat in his mother's eyes Fred reluctantly gave in.  
  
"I'm staying," George announced. "Merlin only knows what he might try."  
  
"Harry?" Mr Weasley asked. "You have a right to decide this as well."  
  
He wanted to say no, that he wouldn't do it, ever, but something stopped him. Slowly, he loked around the table. Everybody here had risked something, lost someone. The Weasleys were prepared to take a potential Death Eater into their home. This was something he could do for the Order.  
  
He took a deep breath. "I'll do it," he said. 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two - London Rain  
  
Draco pulled his trunk behind him and cursed the fact that he was underage, and therefore unable to levitate it. None of the family servants, be they house elves or people, would take his gear, or even look at him. They had been instructed by his mother not do so.  
  
Much as he hated circumstances at the moment, he still admired his mother, and they steel core she'd shown in kicking him out. Obviously not something anyone else would think, but Draco was purebred Malfoy and Slytherin, and there was no more formidable combination that that.  
  
His face twisted as he thought of his heritage, and how he'd betrayed it. His father, locked in Azkaban, would kill him, then possible himself, and as for the rest of his family, not to mention the other Death Eaters he knew...  
  
He was as bad as the traitor Black. Worse.  
  
But nothing would happen, at least not if he didn't tell anyone.  
  
His Aunt Bellatrix had accepted his story of being unable to live with his mother for personal reasons quite readily, and though it was risky for her to make a public appearance, after what had happened with Potter two years ago, she'd promised to meet him.  
  
Potter. Draco's lips curved into a scowl and his grey eyes looked more likely to flash lightning than the clouds above. The-Boy-Who-Lived. The one who'd put his father in jail, ruined the Dark Lord's domination - he really did ruin everything.  
  
Walking into the black marble foyer for what he assumed was the last time, he found his mother standing quietly, her back to him, watching the rain. Chinky the house elf, her personal servant, stood by her. She flattened her ears and glared at Draco.  
  
"Chopin will go with you," Narcissa said to him without turning around. "He is your personal servant and would not be persuaded to stay here."  
  
Draco didn't say a word. Holding his head up proudly, he walked past her, to where Chopin waited in a corner. Chopin levitated the trunks, and said squeakily, "we go now, Master Draco?"  
  
"Yes, Chopin," he said, looking at his mother, and finally accepting that she just wasn't going to forgive him this time. "We're leaving now."  
  
Without another word, he walked out into the rain, letting it drip down his neck and plaster his white-blonde hair to his head.  
  
Inside, Narcissa wept from shame and grief as her only child walked down to the gates and out of her life, for, she believed, forever.  
  
Draco didn't have to walk far. He put out his wand hand as he neared the end of the driveway, and with a bang the Knight Bus appeared. Instead of Stan Shunpike jumping down the stairs and announcing his little speech to the world, a member of the Magical Law Enforcement Team, wearing the traditional black robes with red bands, steped down and said in a dry voice, "please raise the sleeve on your left arm and release your wand for a quick inspection."  
  
Draco grimaced, but did as instructed. When the man had finished, he took back his wand and climbed onto the bus.  
  
Harry sat, staring at the small sphere of light that had sparked in the middle of the kitchen table.  
  
"He's on the Knight Bus," a voice came from inside the light. "He's going to Charing Cross Road, in Muggle London."  
  
"Right," Mr Weasley replied. "er - Harry, do you know where that is?"  
  
"No, sir," Harry replied.  
  
"I do," Kingsley said from behind them. "But I really think you should reconsider this, Arthur. Bellatrix Lestrange is dangerous. Once she hears that Draco Malfoy has been snatched..."  
  
Ginny looked highly disconcerted. "Maybe we shouldn't do this, Mum," she suggested.  
  
"This was your idea in the first place, Ginny," Fred snapped.  
  
"No, it wasn't," she retorted. "I just agreed with Mum and Dad. I don't even know why the Hell I did it."  
  
"I know," Ron said. "Think of all the stuff we could have paid him back for. That's the only reason I agreed. Now we've got her after us."  
  
"This was a stupid idea in the first place," George snapped. "I was only staying to make sure the little git didn't try anything. Why the Hell are we bothering?"  
  
"Well, we can't changed our minds now," Mrs Weasley sighed. "And we don't have a choice, really, George."  
  
Fred and George left the room, grumbling. Harry, not trusting what they were up to, followed.  
  
He found them in their room, pulling what loked like ordinary Muggle handcuffs from a box under Fred's bed. "What are you doing?" he asked, shutting the door behind him. "How did you get those?"  
  
"Dung," George replied, after looking around to see who it was. "We decided to take a small break from producing for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and made these for the Order."  
  
"They're the only ones we have," Fred added. "They're strengthened with magic, and completely protected against any Unlocking or Destroying Spell we've found in the library at school, here, or in the Public Lbrary in Diagon Alley."  
  
"Let's ee Malfoy do anything with these on," George added with relish. "If we take his wand off him, and put a Cloaking Spell on him, so nobody can sense him with magic..."  
  
Harry nodded, and began to feel a little better about this whole thing. "Maybe we should blindfold him or something as well," he suggested. "So he doesn't know where he's going."  
  
"Excellent, young Harry!" George enthused. "But we will have to take the blindfold off at some point. I want to make sure he knows exactly who has him."  
  
The door swung open, and the three boys jumped, calming when they saw Ginny and Ron.  
  
"We need to talk," Ginny said. "Mum and Dad only know Lucius Malfoy. They don't know what Malfoy's like, but we do. We need a plan."  
  
George stood up and quickly locked the door, then cast an Imperturbable Charm on it.  
  
"What are those?" Ron asked, sitting down on the bed next to the handcuffs. Fred and George explained again, and Ron and Ginny both looked interested.  
  
"We have to make sure someone's always watching him," Ginny said firmly, tossing her red braid behind her shoulder. "Mum and Dad are probably just going to let him wander around the house. I vote we lock him in a room somewhere."  
  
"What, with the ghoul in the attic?" Ron asked, sniggering. "He'd wet himself."  
  
"What about in Percy's old room?" Fred asked. "He's put so many Protection Charms on it - got sick of George and me breaking in, I guess."  
  
"Sounds good to me," Harry said, shrugging. "But we can't just rely on spells. Even if we're taking his wand off him - which we are, right?"  
  
Four nods greeted his statement. "What are we going to do when school goes back, then?" Ginny asked. The boys all looked at each other.  
  
"I bet Mum and Dad didn't think of that either," Ron said worriedly.  
  
Voices downstairs alerted them to the fact that the others were leaving. "Right," Fred said quickly. "We go now, and meet again the second we get home."  
  
"You mean after we get Malfoy settled," Ginny said, her eyes glinting with hate. 


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three - London Rain  
  
"I still think it would have been a better idea to stop and wait somewhere else and get him before he gets off," Fred muttered into the collar of his jacket. "That woman could be anywhere along here."  
  
"She won't show up until after the bus gets here," Kingsley said confidently. "Or else Draco Malfoy will have to meet her somewhere else. She wouldn't risk being caught."  
  
"Yeah, right. Isn't this the child prodigy Death Eater? Her only little darling nephew?" Ginny said sarcastically so only the boys could hear.  
  
"Great," Ron muttered. He hadn't brought a jacket, and stood on the side of the road shivering. "You have the handcuffs, don't you, George?"  
  
"Yep," George replied, pulling them a small way out of hhis pocket so that Ron could see them. "We'll get the little bastard before anyone else, don't you worry."  
  
Draco pulled the piece of parchment from his robes and tapped it gently with his wand. Slowly, the blank parchment started to relfect words and Draco reread it.  
  
Draco,  
I received your owl yesterday and am only too happy to allow you to stay until you return to school. I would prefer you to stay here permanently, as your education is not all it could be while Albus Dumbledore is Headmaster. - Draco snorted. -  
  
However, it is my understanding that your father, though he is in Azkaban, is still your legal guardian and he wishes you to stay at Hogwarts.  
  
I have also written to my sister, informing her of my disappointment in not allowing you to remain in your ancestral home. She has not yet replied, and since your letter did not detail why you have been forced to leave, I have formed my own ideas on the subject.  
  
You will have to meet me in Muggle London. Take the Knight Bus to Charing Cross Road, and wait there until midnight. I realise it will be uncomfortable, and staying in a Muggle habitated area is both a strain and boring almost beyond endurance, but it is the only way to avoid undue Ministry interference. Rumour has it they are conducting random checks in Diagon Alley, and the Knight Bus is also being monitored.  
  
DO NOT reply to this owl. If you can, take the Knight Bus. If not, I will know when I get to our agreed meeting place.  
  
Bellatrix  
  
Draco tapped the parchment again and it went blank. He was then flung to one side and hit his head soundly against the window. Rubbing his head and glaring at Ernier Prang, the bus driver, he tried to straighten his robes, bags, and catch Chopin, who was sliding down the aisle.  
  
"We'll be in Charing Cross Road in a minute," Stan said, coming up the aisle. "Just gotta let a couple o' others off first."  
  
Draco nodded, but said nothing. It was Chopin, who, having recovered his balance, said in his squeaky voice, "thankyou, sir."  
  
"You shouldn't have called him sir," Draco hissed when Stan was back out of earshot. "You of all things should know a servant from a person."  
  
The elf hung his head and apologised.  
  
Harry was starting to grow impatient, though Kingsley and Mr. Weasley weren't worried. He sidled up to Fred and Ginny, who were talking quietly, and said, "what if we've missed him? What if he's already gotten off - or if he got off somewhere else?"  
  
"He wouldn't do that," Fred said confidently. "He's not smart enough. Oh, ass, it's starting to rain again. This is going to drive me mad before long."  
  
It was raining again, a steady drizzle that bathed the lights of Muggle London and made them appear as a watery glow. Harry hunched his shoulders against the cold drips and sighed at the slight protection.  
  
Why had Malfoy been kicked out of home? From what he knew, Draco Malfoy had been the most important thing in Narcissa Malfoy's life, possible even more so than her husband. It was odd that she would just turn around and make him leave.  
  
Unless - what if he wanted to become a Death Eater, and she didn't want anything to happen to him? No. It didn't make sense. If he did want to join Voldemort's ranks, and she disagreed, she would keep him under lock and key. Sending him out into the world would just be a way of garanteeing his wishes. Especially when he went to live with Bellatrix Lestrange.  
  
"Harry!" George said sharply. "The bus is coming! Get over here and give us a hand!" Harry went over, and George said in a whisper, "we have to get to Malfoy before the rest of them do. Ginny has a bag she's going to shove on Malfoy's head so he can't see where he's going, and I've got the handcuffs. Fred's going to put a Stunner on him, and you and Ron could probably hold him down if that doesn't work. Are you ready?"  
  
"Yes," Harry said firmly. "Won't everyone else kill us, but? You mum and dad, and Kingsley Shacklebolt?"  
  
"They'll get over it," George said, and put a hand in his pocket. Harry could see his other fist clench as the bus careered over the pavemtn and came to a crazy stop, slewed halfway across the road about fifty feet away. Two figures, one short and held straight with arrogance, the other stooped and shivering in a filthy rag, stumbled down the steps, and three trunks were thrown out after them. Harry felt his throat go tight. There he was, it was Malfoy...  
  
"Now!" Fred snapped, and the five of them raced towards Malfoy. Fred seied him in a pefect flying tackle, and Ginny whipped the bag over his head and tied it on with her hair ribbon before he could do anything.  
  
Snap! The handcuffs were fastened to his wrists, and Harry, changing his mind, left Ron, Fred, and George pinning the struggling form down and went for the house elf. Grabbing it from behind, he twisted it's arms behind it and felt it sturggle against him.  
  
"Stupefy!" two voices shouted. One was George, and the still fighting form of Malfoy went still. The other had been Mrs. Weasley, and Harry slumped as the house elf stiffened in his arms.  
  
Harry lifted his head. Ginny was bent over, breathing hard and pinching her nose. "Are you all right?" he asked.  
  
Ginny nodded. "Malfoy hit me, that's all. It's just a bloody nose." She looked around. "We've done it, but," she said with obvious satisfaction. "We have Malfoy, the son-of-a-bitch."  
  
"Ginny Weasley! Will you watch your language!" Mrs Weasley shouted. "Now, let's get the boy out of here. No, Fred, don't punch him."  
  
"But he deserves it, Mum!" Fred protested in the voice of someone who had been denied a big treat. 


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four - London Rain  
  
Draco was engulfed in blackness. For a few manic seconds he thought he was unconscious, but sensation was still strong and he groaned at the pain in his back, face and wrists. Trying to move, he found his feet were tied and he was wearing some sort of metal bracelets on his wrists that were tied together.  
  
Trying to turn his head, he discovered the reason he couldn't see was because someone had put a bag over his head, and tied it securely around his neck. With his hands bound, there was no way he could get it off.  
  
Deciding not to worry about that for now, Draco wriggled about a bit and discovered he was on a worn carpeted floor leaning against something soft and hard at the same time - possibly a bed. Whoever had him wasn't out to kill him - yet.  
  
Straining his ears, he thought he heard muffled footsteps both above and below him. Then the creak of a door - his door, he could only presume, and someone stepping very close to him.  
  
"Do you think he's unconscious?" an unfamiliar voice asked. "You walloped him pretty hard, you know."  
  
"Had to." This voice was more familiar, one he hadn't heard for a few years but it was lodged in his memory. It wasn't the voice, the one he would recognise whether he could see or not. That voice was unique, and gave him shivers up and down his spine.  
  
"What do you mean, you had to?" the other voice was saying.  
  
"Did you think he would come willingly?" the familiar voice asked with a hint of a sneer. "We had to truss him up like a chicken before we could get anywhere. And as for that damn house elf of his -"  
  
"Where is it?"  
  
"The attic, with an Anti-Disapparation Jinx on it. It seems to be holding him so far. Can you stay here utnil we're finished our meeting?"  
  
The other voice laughed. "I'd rather sit in and hear what you're planning, but as long as you fill me in later I'll do it."  
  
"Deal." Who's voice was it? Steps sounded again, and suddenly Draco felt a powerful kick against his ribs. He welcomed oblivion as a release from the pain.  
  
Harry settled back against George's bed and waited for Fred to get back. After they'd gotten Malfoy back to The Burrow, Fred and Bill had taken him to Percy's old room, and were standing guard until he woke up. Then Bill was staying with him while Fred, George, Ron, Ginny and Harry met to decide exactly what to do about Malfoy.  
  
"What do you think they're doing?" Ginny asked. "Why is it taking so long?"  
  
"Fred punched him pretty hard," Ron said reasonably. "It would make sense if it took him a while to come around."  
  
"He'll probably hit him again," George said with a shrug. At that moment Fred entered the room, and four people looked at him expectedly.  
  
"I knocked him out," Fred said with a shrug. "I thought it would be easier than trying to keep him in the one spot."  
  
"Probably," Harry said with a grimace. Part of him still couldn't believe that he'd agreed to keep Malfoy here in the first place.Another part of him felt almost sympathetic, but he ruthlessly squashed it down.  
  
"So what's the plan?" Ron asked. "What are we going to do with him? Keep him locked in there, feed him once a day until school goes back, and then put him on the train, still blindfolded?"  
  
"You fool!" Ginny said in annoyance. She hadn't gotten any sleep the night before, so a combination of black shadows under her eyes and a slightly swollen nose made her look more dangerous than normal. "People are obviously going to notice if we bundle him onto the train blindfolded. Most people won't care, but the other Slytherins will."  
  
"Well, what do you suggest?" George asked. "Put him in one of our trunks? Knock him out and put some sort of cloaking spell on him?"  
  
"That sounds like the safest option," Harry said. "Unless..."  
  
"Unless what?" Fred asked.  
  
"Well, the Knight Bus went to Hogwarts when Ron and I were in Fifth Year, didn't it? You and George could take him in that way," he suggested uncomfortably as Fred and George looked at him narrowly.  
  
"It sounds like it would work," Fred said thoughtfully. "Mind you,I doubt the little bastard will be in very good shape when we get him there."  
  
"What if he sees our faces?" George asked. "Maybe we'll have to wear disguises or something. Or cast a memory charm on him when we get there."  
  
"They can be broken," Ginny said firmly, sounding almost like Hermione.  
  
Harry made a sound of frustration and banged his hand against the wall. "We have to think of something!" he snapped irritably.  
  
"Maybe we should write to Hermione," Ron suggested, and tried not to blush as Fred and George started laughing.  
  
"What would we say, but?" Ginny asked sensibly. "'Dear Hermione, how would you get someone to school without them seeing you and without anyone noticing them? Oh, and by the way, they have to be tied up and gagged, possibly unconscious.' She's not that daft, you guys. She'd know something was up."  
  
"So let her suspect," Harry said. "We haven't got any ideas, and she would. I think it's the best idea we've come up with so far."  
  
"I still think Fred and I should get him to school," George growled.  
  
Draco awoke, yet again, but this time feeling came slowly, blooming ripe and aching in his ribs. He tried to move as little as possible, easy enough now that he'd been tossed onto what he was presuming was a bed, stomach down.  
  
Tired as he was, he tried to figure out where he was. Though he was a Malfoy, and rich enough and well-known enough to be kidnapped by any number of people, his safest bet was that some sort of anti-Death Eater group had him. Most probably the Order of the Phoenix, that Dumbledore had founded.  
  
It also stood up to reason that he wouldn't be kept in the Order's Headquarters. From what the house elf Kreacher had told his father, the Order was using the House of Black to do business, and if they had any brains, they wouldn't be leaving him in a house he knew well.  
  
Besides, according to Kreacher, the house was always busy, with people coming and going and Mrs. Black's portrait screaming all the time. Straining his ears as hard as he could, he heard nothing.  
  
Wait. There was something. Footsteps. 


	5. Chapter Five

London Rain - Chapter Five  
  
Author's Note: I just wanted to thank all the people who have reviewed so far, especially those who've reviewed since Chapter One was put up.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Draco listened to the footsteps coming up the stairs and tried to turn over without making it obvious that he was awake. He remembered before he had been knocked out there was someone watching over him, and the last thing he wanted was for some fool to belt him again.  
  
It was to no avail, however. By the time he'd struggled onto his back, someone yelled out, "he's awake! What do I do now?"  
  
It was one of the voices he'd heard before, the one that had been unfamiliar and now he didn't think he could forget. Since whoever this strange male was knew he was awake, he tried to sit up and nearly managed before a thump of pain from his ribs and back had him lying flat again and asking loudly, "who in Hades are you and what's going on here?"  
  
"Shut up, Malfoy," the voice said, "you're not in control here."  
  
"If this is a question of money, you're going to be disappointed," Draco said violently. "Nobody's going to pay you anything -"  
  
"I said, shut up!" He felt someone hit him on the side of the head, and a new voice said angrily, "stop it!"  
  
"Honestly, I told you when we got him back here that he wasn't to be touched!" The speaker was a woman, and she was clearly ticked off. "And now, what with the two of you beating him all the time, I'm surprised he's still conscious. Honestly."  
  
"What, you're feeding him now?" the man asked, incredulously. "That's stupid. Best thing for all of us would be to let the little son-of-a -"  
  
"THAT'S ENOUGH!" she shouted. "I'm going to put the food here for him, and you can figure out how he's going to eat it with those ridiculous Muggle contraptions all over him. Then you can get out of here and someone else can watch him."  
  
"I'll do it," a new voice, the other one from before, joined the conversation. "It'll be fun."  
  
"You will not," the woman objected. "There is no way I'm leaving you two alone."  
  
"What about three of us, then?" the voice asked. "I'll get one of the others in, and we promise we won't hit him."  
  
"Well..." the woman mused.  
  
Only Draco heard the muttered "hard, anyway," before the woman agrred to letting them watch over him.  
  
"Look, what's going on?" he asked again. "I demand to know what you're on about!"  
  
"Demand all you like, mate, no-one cares." The voice was the one who had shouted that Draco was awake. "While we're chatting, anyway, do you want to tell us why you were kicked out of home?"  
  
"Get lost," Draco snapped automtacially, but as always, started thinking. Why had he been kicked out of home? Simple.  
  
It wasn't their fault directly, but Draco knew that if it hadn't been for them it never would have happened. He'd never have softened, become a disgrace and an outcast from his own family.  
  
He was lucky his father didn't know. It had been the last favour his mother had granted him, that she wouldn't tell Lucius. Narcissa would spread the word that Draco had wished to go and live with relatives - his Aunt Bellatrix. Trusted allies would be told that Draco was learning the Death Arts with Bellatrix, since his father wasn't there to teach him.  
  
But she had still forced him to leave his home, reject his heritage, and now he was stuck in a prison with a bunch of people who clearly had mixed feelings about letting him stay alive. He was assuming the only reason he was still actually functioning was that they had orders not to hurt him.  
  
Fred ran back upstairs and burst open the door to Ron's room, where Ron and Harry were playing chess while Ginny wrote a letter to Hermione. If she had no ideas, or refused to tell them anything, they were going to use the Knight Bus/Memory Charm plan, now being nicknamed the Knight Charm.  
  
"All right," Fred said airily, "because Mum doesn't trust me, I need someone to come with me and take the next shift of watching Malfoy with me. Ginny, have you finished that letter to Hermione yet?"  
  
"Hmm," Ginny said, quill scratching on parchment. "I'm trying to rewrite it without making it sound suspicious. Can I hint that you and George are trying something she'll think is stupid and she won't want to know?"  
  
"Will she interrogate us the next time she sees us? Or just rip our heads off?"  
  
"Probably both."  
  
"Yeah, ok then," George said brightly, entering the room. "Fred, how the heck are we going to manage to get Malfoy's blindfold off so he can eat without him seeing us? My vote is we stand outside the window and use a Summoning Charm."  
  
"I have a better idea," Harry interrupted. "Use those Headless Hats of yours. He won't recognise the rest of you. Or one of you can use my Invisibility Cloak."  
  
It was unanimous. Ten mintues later, Draco felt someone whip the bag off his head, nad he was locked in again, this time with a plate of food. he took a quick look around, but found nothing to tell him where he was.  
  
It was a small, square room with cream plaster walls and worn grey carpet. The bed was dark wood with white cotton sheets and a thick grey blanket. It had all the look and personality of a gaol cell.  
  
Wandering over to the window, which was rusted shut, he tried lookng out, but it was too dark to see anything except shadows. Not that it mattered anyway, he had no idea where he was, except that it was more country than city, and apart from cities and Hogwarts, his knowledge of England was fairly poor.  
  
Wandering to the door, he pulled on it to no avail. He pushed. The door was obviously locked, both by magic and Muggle locks. Reaching for his back pocket, he cursed at his own stupidity. Of course they'd taken his wand.  
  
Grumbling, he returned to the bed and his food. It was surprisingly good, and obivously home-cooked just recently. Draco found himself more and more intruiged by these people who didn't want him here, and just as obviously wanted to keep him alive.  
  
When he'd finished, he put the plate aside and leaned back against the bed. He heard steps again, and the door opened as someone obviously wearing an Invisibility Cloak came in, took the plate, and pushed the bacg back over his head, trying it securely.  
  
"You can come in now," someone called, "I'm taking the plate downstairs."  
  
"Right," another voice said, and Draco's insides contracted with horror. It was the voice, the one that he feared and longed to hear.  
  
And now he was trapped, with them. 


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six - London Rain  
  
Draco couldn't believe it. He'd dentertained the ideas of who had him captive, mainly as an intellectual excercise so that he didn't go stark, raving mad, trapped by a bag and those queer metal bracelets. The idea that the Order had him had kept him busy for a while, making him wonder where he was, if that was the case.  
  
Now, he knew the Order had him, and he was stuck by himself with The Reason He'd Been Kicked Out Of Home.  
  
'What am I doing here?" he asked again, when the silence had stretched on too long for his liking. "I know you're still here, so you'd better answer me now!"  
  
"And why should I do that?" he asked. Draco couldn't help it - he shivered. "Aw, are we scared, ickle Malfoy?" he mocked. "I'll tell you something if you tell me something."  
  
"Ask your question first," Draco said. After a moments hesitation, he added, "I know who you are, you know."  
  
"Good," the voice replied lazily. "I was hoping you would, so you'd know why you're here. But, you know who I am, and you don't know why we have you. Merlin, you're stupider than I thought you were."  
  
"The phrase," Draco said bitingly, "is 'more supid.' Now, why am I here?"  
  
"To stop you joining your aunt, of course," Harry Potter returned simply. "Why were you kicked out of home? Couldn't your mother stomach the sight of a future Death Eater? Is she sick of knowing that all you Malfoys do is bring shame and dishonour upon your heads?"  
  
Draco snapped and threw himself in the direction that Harry's voice was coming from, forgetting his bound feet. Overbalancing, he cursed as he tumbled off the side of the bed.  
  
"Don't you ever dare insult my family again, Potter," he said warningly. "I'm warning you; I'll kill you."  
  
"Whatever, Malfoy," Harry said, watching him attempt to stand up and get into a position that didn't involve him pressing his head against the worn carpet.  
  
Fred came back in. "What'd you do to him?"  
  
"I didn't do anything," Harry returned, annoyed. "I asked why he got kicked out of home, and he had a fit. Tried to attack me and fell off the bed."  
  
"Right," Fred said, walking over and hefting Draco back into a sitting position. "We can't do anything else to him. Someone's coming tomorrow morning, and he has to be in working order."  
  
Harry knew that the "someone" Fred was talking about was Dumbledore, and also knew that they were to use no names in front of Draco, so he wouldn't know who had him.  
  
"He knows who I am, you know," he said slowly to Fred.  
  
"Does he now?" Fred asked, looking slightly worried. "I guess it'll have to be a Memory Charm after all. He doesn't know anyone else, does he?"  
  
"He hasn't said anything about it, so I don't know." Harry stood up and paced the small room. Lucius Malfoy was a murderer. Bellatrix Lestrange was a murderer, and it stood to reason that Draco, under the tutelage of both of these notrious Death Eaters, would be just as bad, if not worse.  
  
So why did Harry have a niggling feeling about Draco, tied up on the floor? Why did he think it was not only pathetic, but cruel, that a person couold be reduced to this?  
  
He isn't a person, Harry told himself firmly. Far better to believe that than to fall into the trap of feeling sorry for a Slytherin - for his worst enemy.  
  
Bellatrix Lestrange walked quietly down the halls of stone, her black robes with a dusting of silver at the hem - as befitted her position - and pushed open the heavy bone door in front of her with a whispered spell.  
  
Lord Voldemort sat at one end of the room, in a chair of heavy, dark wood. Bellatrix walked along the blood red carpet that led to him, and bowed when she was three feet away.  
  
"What is it, Bella?" he asked imperiously.  
  
"I apologise for interrupting you, my lord," she said, not moving, "but it is about my nephew, Draco Malfoy. I was supposed to meet him and bring him here tonight, but he was not at the meeting place, nor was he at his home in the Malfoy Manor."  
  
"You want permission to go after him? See here, Wormtail, here is real loyalty," he said with amusement to the short, glowering man beside him. "Very well, Bella. You have one week, and you may take three Death Eaters with you. Make sure you are not found. It is hard to find competent help these days."  
  
Wormtail glared at Bellatrix with unabashed hatred. She aknowledged Lord Voldemort's compliment by nodding her head demurely, and rose from her crouch. Giving Wormtail one long, penetrating look from her dark lashes, she swept out.  
  
"May I follow her, my Lord?" Wormtail asked. "There is something about her I do not trust."  
  
Voldemort laughed, a high, cruel laugh, and flicked his wand in Wormtail's direction. Wormtail fell to the floor and curled up in pain.  
  
"You only distrust Bellatrix Lestrange because she is everything you are not, Wormtail. I will hear no more of your idiodicy. Silence!" he roared, as Wormtail tried to speak, to beg for forgiveness.  
  
Draco sat up with a start. It had only been a dream, but it had felt so real. Had it even been a dream? He didn't remember falling asleep, or even feeling sleepy. Could he dare to hope that dream or not, it had been real? That his aunt was searching for him?  
  
Lifting his bound hands, he tried to push the bag off his head. He struggled wildy for a minute, and finally managed to hold the hem of the bag with his teeth and jerk it off his head.  
  
Breathing deeply, appreciating the small sense of freedom he had gained by taking the bag off his head, he looked around.  
  
The door was shut, and locked, and so was the window. There was no-one else in the room with him, but he knew better than to assume he had been left without some form of guard. Sure enough, when he went to get off the bed, he found that he'd been put in some sort of spell box, which kept him from moving more than three feet from the bed.  
  
Cursing, he sat down again. This all bore evidence of careful planning - the interception of the Knight Bus, the bindings, the room he lay in - it wasn't as if he'd just been picked up and carted off.  
  
It all pointed to two things - one was that there was a traitor somewhere, and the other was that somebody expected information from him.  
  
When Dumbledore came to The Burrow the next morning, Harry was still eating breakfast. He and Ginny looked up from buttered toast, and Ron, Fred, and George looked up from Exploding Snap. Mr and Mrs Weasley, who had been talking urgently with Bill in one corner, went forward to meet him.  
  
"Good morning, Arthur, Molly, Bill," Dumbledore said, looking around, "and you, Ginny, Ron, Harry, Fred, George. How are you all?"  
  
"Well, sir," Harry said. "Considering what has happened."  
  
"Ah, so you do have him here," Dumbledore said, sitting at the kitchen table and taking Ginny's last piece of toast. Ginny scowled but didn't say anything. "Kingsley said you would lock him up here. Where is he, may I ask?"  
  
"Upstairs, in one of the bedrooms," Fred replied. "He doesn't know who has him, sir. Apart from Harry. I mean to say he recognised him, knows his voice or something. He doesn't know the rest of us."  
  
"Of course not," Dumbledore said as if to himself, "but of course, he would know Harry. It was inevitable." Then, as if noticing the kitchen full of people staring at him, smiled and said, "but all will be well. I myself shall cast a Memory Charm on him once he returns to Hogwarts. Do you know why he was turned out of home?"  
  
He asked it in the manner of one who knows, and is merely waiting for someone else to volunteer the information so he could discuss it. He seemed quite disappointed when everyone shook their head.  
  
"No? Well, perhaps later on, then," he decided, finishing the piece of toast. "Now, will someone take me up to see him?"  
  
"I will, sir," Harry said suddenly, jumping up from the table. "It's probably better if I keep watch on him, since he doesn't know that he's at the Weasley's place. It's far better he only knows one of us."  
  
He strode up the stairs. Dumbledore followed with a preoccupied look on his face. 


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven - London Rain  
  
Harry bade Dumbledore to wait outside while he checked on Draco. Dumbledore seemed quite content to stand outside, inspecting the Protection Spells that had been cast, both by Percy and, more recently, Bill. Harry himself spoke the word that would allow him to pass into the room beyond, and, without waiting, strode in.  
  
"Don't you knock?" Draco asked, annoyed. One would think he was still lord of the manor, and Harry a lowly servant who had done the wrong thing.  
  
"Not for you," Harry retorted. "How the Hell did you get loose?" The bag sat at the end of the bed, and Draco's feet were free. His hands were still bound by the handcuffs, thankfully, and the spell Harry had cast the night before kept him to the immediate area around the bed.  
  
"Bad magic happens, Potter," Draco replied cryptically. "You of all people should know that." He wished Harry would leave. The sight of him, standing there in the morning shafts of sunlight coming from the window, his hair still all over the place, but glossy black as a raven's wing, and his eyes green as new leaves, was unsettling. Draco felt goosebumps rise on his arms.  
  
Harry had obviously felt no such thing. Coming forward, he grabbed the bag from the end of the bed, and, with one hand holding it, managed to force Draco to hold his head still. He pushed the bag down over Draco's head, messing up the white-blonde hair even more, and managed to tie it on with a piece of string he'd kept in his pocket just in case. He then retied Draco feet, pushing him flat on the bed.  
  
He gave Draco a bit of a push, just to make sure, and beckoned Dumbledore in. He walked in with dignity, making sure to shut the door behind him, and pointed his wand at his throat. In a voice that was nothing like his own, he said, "do you know why you're here, Malfoy?"  
  
"You want information from me, don't you?" Draco asked woodenly, wishing the stupid bag wasn't back on his head. Even through it, he could feel Harry, whjo was standing at the end of the bed with his hands behind his back.  
  
Draco had no idea whose voice it was, but he could tell it was male, and middle-aged. He wished he could see. The bag was wearing thin in places, but these were near his mouth, making it easeier to breathe than see.  
  
"Information? Well, that wasn't our original idea, but if you have any useful information you want to share with us - no? I didn't think so. We are merely keeping you here until school begins again in a week, to stop you joining your aunt Bellatrix and learning the Dark Arts. We found out from a useful source in your mother's house that you had been forced to leave. I know why, but nobody else does, and if you don't wish them to know, they won't."  
  
Why was Dumbledore being so polite? Harry wondered. If it were him, he'd pribably have told Draco that he was a prisoner, and he had little chance of escaping, and would only be released if he shut up and stopped being such a damned prat.  
  
"I'll find out who you are," Draco growled. "When I get out of here, I swear to Merlin I'll find out who you are, and I'll tear you to pieces."  
  
"Ah, but you won't, sir," Dumbledore replied, the amusement obvious in his voice. "You see, you will be escorted on the Knight Bus back to Hogwarts, and there you will have a Memory Charm placed on you to make sure you cannot find out where you stayed, or who you were with."  
  
He smiled, almost to himself, and gave Harry a curious glance before saying, "well, that concludes our interview, Mr Malfoy. Remember what I have told you, and if you want to help us, just say the word."  
  
He turned and left, motioning Harry to follow him. When they were both outside, he said, "I am satisfied with the way you are trating him. Do not physically harm him, and do not let him out of that room. His aunt searches daily for him, and will until school returns. It has been rumoured that Voldemort has allowed her to leave his service in the company of other Death Eaters to find him."  
  
Harry nodded, and locked the door behind them. He didn't trust humself to say anything. But he said it anyway. "Sir, this is just - Malfoy doesn't appear that dangerous. Doesn't it seem wrong to lock up a person like that?"  
  
Dumbledore looked at him with a mixture of pity and alarm. "It is wrong, Harry, but you must think of Draco as either Lucius' son or Bellatrix's nephew - a potentially lethal operative of Voldemort."  
  
Pausing, he seemed to weigh his next words carefully "Harry, I would suggest that you did not continue to watch over Draco, whether or not he finds out he is staying with the Weasleys. Trustme, but stay away from him."  
  
Harry nodded, confused. Something was going on here, and he didn't like it. But when he returned to the kitchen, and joined the others in a game of Exploding Snap while Mr and Mrs Weasley talked with Dumbledore, he put it firmly form his mind.  
  
Dumbledore was just trying to protect him, that was all.  
  
Narcissa Malfoy looked like a scoiety matron - one of those elegant, fashionable women that can organise servants and houses with brilliant prescision, but are otherwise useless.  
  
It was part of a sophisticated veneer that hid the darkest parts of her. Raised to worship Voldemort, Narcissa lacked the key emotion that ran rampant in her sister Bellatrix's veins - hatred. A pampered, spoilt child, she had wilfully avoided Muggles and non-supporters of her lord, which in turn had rendered her absolutely hopeless as a Death Eater.  
  
However, she still fervently believed in Voldemort and his Death Eaters, so marrying Lucius Malfoy had been a brilliant stroke. She may not have loved him at the beginning, nor did she feel any particularly strong emotion for him now, but he was a devoted Death Eater, an accomplished liar, and a wonderful provider. Most of what the Malfoy family owned now had been improved on by Lucius Malfoy's ties to the Ministry, and now that that was through, he waited patiently in Azkaban for Voldemort to set him free.  
  
Her son Draco, on the other hand - Narcissa loved her son with a passion that was almost greater than he belief in Voldemort. He looked like an angel, or so she believed, and he would grow up knowing exactly what it was to stand behind Voldemort. She had been proud that he didn't stand on good terms with those who had turned their backs on Voldemort when he had fallen to Harry Potter, people like the Parkinsons, with their daughter Pansy, or the Bulstrodes, with that absolute troll Millicent.  
  
No, Draco's friends had been people like Blaise Zabini, a fine, upstanding boy whose parents were as devoted to Voldemort as the Malfoys.  
  
Then she had found out the reason he lacked friendship with girls like Pansy and Millicent. And exactly how close he was to Blaise. It had nearly torn her apart. Grief, guilt and shame raced through her, and she had stood in his doorway, calling him names she had no idea she would ever use.  
  
Maybe she would have let him stay - had it not been for what she found out next. Not what, who.Who the light in his life was, the reason life was worth living. He may have had a physical relationship with Blaise, but his emotions were clearly elsewhere.  
  
Resting with the Boy-Who-Lived. Narcissa had wept for her son then, knowing that he would have to leave, that she could never allow anyone, even if they were her flesh and blood, her devotion and only child, to live in her house while they were in any way disloyal to Voldemort.  
  
Her last favour had been to grant discretion and silence, and make up a cover story that would explain her son's absence from home. It would mean lying to her husband, her friends, and the people who, like her, were truly loyal to Voldemort, but he was her son. She'd had to do it.  
  
She'd believed she would never hear from him, nor about him again. Certainly she would refuse to see him.  
  
But now, her sister sat across the table from her, and she looked both angry and slightly worried. Behind her sat Macnair, to one side, Goyle, to the other, and Ciaran Parkinson stood between them.  
  
None of them looked impressed, and Bellatrix looked as if she was barely restraining her fury toward Narcissa. She leant forward, and imbued every word with menace.  
  
"Where is Draco?" she asked, and Narcissa blanched. 


End file.
